


Port Royal Reserve

by Elixsea



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: I just wanted to write him being a piece of trash okay, Minor Swearing, Xigbar steals a lot of shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23077699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elixsea/pseuds/Elixsea
Summary: In which Xigbar ropes you into stealing everything that isn't nailed down after your mission is over.
Relationships: Xigbar (Kingdom Hearts) & Reader
Kudos: 13





	Port Royal Reserve

Some of your coworkers were easier to work with than others.

On most occasions, your list of ‘easiest people to work with’ included your current companion. Xigbar was one of the best to work with on reconnaissance missions, simply because the guy knew what the hell he was doing. And for the most part, he kept it strictly business: gather intel, stay out of sight, and report back with findings.

On this occasion, however, you found him to be absolutely insufferable. 

Currently, you were stuck with him in Port Royal. After the mission was over, the Freeshooter roped you into standing guard outside a warehouse of sorts while he rummaged through boxes and boxes of goods that were waiting to be shipped to far-off destinations. It was late at night, and if not for the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore, the port would have been dead quiet. The port was devoid of life, save for the occasional drunken sailor wandering the streets.

“Xigbar,” you hissed, “hurry up. I think I saw someone coming.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie; you had seen someone walk past, but they were too far away to notice you standing impatiently in the shadows, waiting for your comrade to finish pocketing whatever goods he saw fit to keep. Xigbar dismissed your concerns with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

“No one’s coming,” he replied. He stuffed what appeared to be a silver pocket watch into his overflowing pockets and opened another crate. 

“Hurry up,” you urged him again through clenched teeth. “Someone might show up to check on this place sooner or later. The longer we stay here, the higher the risk of getting caught!”

“Quit being so nervous. Everything is totally fine,” he said.

“Xigbar, please. I’m serious. We should get out of here.”

“Don’t be such a chicken. Look what I found! Port Royal Reserve. A whole case of it,” Xigbar whispered excitedly, holding up a brown bottle of rum for you to see. “This year’s Christmas party is gonna be–”

“You’re not bringing that whole crate home.” 

You stared at Xigbar with incredulity. The man simply shrugged and hoisted the crate off of the ground–or attempted to, at least. It was heavier than it looked, and the man struggled mightily with the box.

“Not without your help, I’m not. Gimme a hand with this, would ya, doll?” Xigbar said breathlessly, trying and failing to support the weight of the wooden crate. It slipped from his hands and hit the ground, the bottles inside clinking noisily together.

“Why can’t you just, I don’t know, use your anti-gravity powers to make the box lighter?” you asked him.

“Doesn’t quite work like that, doll,” Xigbar said. “Now get over here and help me stash this outside so we can grab some more.”

It didn’t take a genius to see that Xigbar was not going to leave the crate sitting there. With a heavy sigh, you took one corner of it and lifted it into the air, groaning at the sheer weight of the box. 

Just as you were about to begin backing out the door and into the thick underbrush outside, the door to the warehouse swung open. There, in the doorway, stood a portly, balding man holding a lantern. He teetered back and forth on his feet, but his vision was sharp enough to make out the two of you standing there in the dark with a box of something that didn’t belong to you. 

“Thieves!” he cried. The man fumbled for the gun holstered at his side with his free hand. He was clearly intoxicated, and you weren’t sure if that made the situation more or less dangerous. 

“Drop the box,” you told Xigbar. He shook his head.

“As if! No way am I lettin’ this go.”

The man drew his gun from the holster and aimed it at you. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he slurred, “but I will if you don’t drop the crate and leave now.”

“Ooh, is that a threat?” Xigbar sneered. “I’m shaking in my boots.”

A pull of the trigger and a loud bang told you both that the man meant business. 

Without another word, Xigbar opened a Corridor and motioned with a jerk of his head for you to follow him into it. It was your turn to shake your head, and you turned back to the man to find him standing there slack-jawed, staring straight into the Corridor. Of course he’s never seen anything like it before.

“Aw, fuck, we can’t just leave him,” you sighed. “He’s gonna tell everyone what he saw. Nice going, asshole.”

You dropped your corner of the box, much to Xigbar’s dismay, and walked toward the man, who help up his gun in defense. He waved it wildly between the two of you, unsure of who to take aim at as you approached him. As he pointed the gun in your face, you reached out to grab his wrist and move it away. The drunkard didn’t put up much of a fight. 

“I’m really sorry for this,” you told him. Before the man could say anything in response, you wound up and punched him as hard as you could right in the nose. The man keeled over backward and hit the ground with a dull thud, out cold from the direct hit. Blood streamed from his nose, and you grimaced a bit at the sight. 

As Xigbar struggled with the crate of Port Royal Reserve, you dragged the man deeper into the warehouse by his ankles and propped him up against another wooden crate, hidden so that no one would walk in and find him bloodied and passed out.

“Way to go, Princess,” Xigbar laughed. “Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped.

“Quit being so persnickety and give me a hand with this box,” he replied, doing his best to hoist the crate off of the ground. 

“I can’t believe I let you rope me into stealing a bunch of booze, of all things,” you sighed, taking a corner of the crate once more. Xigbar stepped backward into the Corridor he’d opened a few moments prior, and you followed him with his precious cargo. As you followed him, darkness enveloped you and the entrance to the Corridor closed behind you. 

A short trek through the bone-chilling darkness later, the Corridor opened once again, and you stepped into Xigbar’s bedroom. The man set down the crate of alcohol and began unloading his pockets onto his bed, laying out fistfuls of golden coins, watches, and other shiny trinkets before him. You sighed and shook your head. If you’d had a heart, you might have been disappointed to be a party to the crime.

“You know, you’re too helpful for your own good,” Xigbar said as he sorted through his spoils. What he didn’t keep would likely end up in the resident Moogle’s hands. “Gotta watch that, or people will take advantage of you, kiddo.”

“Like you did just now?”

The Freeshooter grinned. “Bingo.”

“I guess I’ll write the mission report,” you said. “I have a feeling you’re going to be occupied for a while with all that rum.”

“And you’d be right. Thanks for the help, Princess. You’re alright in my book.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” you sighed. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”


End file.
